


Possessed

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Series: Road to Perdition [5]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Demon Sex, Demons, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Priest!Harvey, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike seeks help from Father Sam for a problem that has plagued him since childhood.  Instead, he finds a new priest, and must turn to him instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired in part by the show The Exorcist, with a teensy bit of Supernatural hinted at. I wanted to write something for Halloween. Not sure if this fits the bill, but I gave it a shot.

A dead, dried leaf scratched along the sidewalk beside him, and just like that, Mike knew. He could feel it like a cold shiver down his spine.   

The demon had returned.   

He passed other people hurrying through the deepening gloom, rushing to get out of the massing storm.  Overhead, dark clouds roiled, snaked apart, and reformed, thicker and blacker.  A middle-aged woman in a tightly belted trench coat halted as if she'd hit an invisible wall, and grabbed Mike's arm in a strong, bony grip, head tilted to the side at an unnatural angle. 

"Let him in," she hissed at him.  "Submit to him or we will destroy everyone you love." 

"Fuck," yelled Mike.  He yanked his arm free, and his other hand went automatically to clutch the  amulet hanging around his neck.  He took off running, darting through the other pedestrians, even though he knew she wouldn't follow.  She was only a messenger, a warning sent to unnerve him and keep him off-balance. 

And he was plenty unnerved.  He was due back at the office, and would catch hell from Louis for not showing up, but that was a kind of hell he could deal with.  The other kind, however …. 

He knew where he needed to go, to the one person he believed could help him. 

 

****** 

 

"It's been … shit, I don't even know … like, two years since my last confession.  Possibly three."  Slouched uncomfortably in the cramped confessional booth, inhaling dust and furniture polish and the stale sins of a century or more of St. Boniface's parishioners, Mike Ross rubbed his eyes and waited for the priest to give his rote response. 

"May God, the Father of Mercies, help you make a good confession." 

Mike's eyes widened in alarm at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.  "Uh, where's Father Sam?"  He'd been prepared to confess to the priest who had known him since he was a boy, who knew his history, who had helped him before.  He could hear the priest sigh and shift behind the screen. 

"Father Sam is on retreat in Oregon.  He won't be back for another month." 

"Oh, fuck me," Mike groaned, momentarily forgetting he was in a church.  There was no help to be found here, it seemed.  Plan B, then:  stock up on salt and hole up in his apartment.  "Sorry to waste your time, Father."   

He stood up and exited the booth, only to come face to face with the unknown priest, who'd anticipated his move and been quicker than him. 

"Wait.  Maybe I can help you." 

Mike froze, staring at the man in front of him.  He might be a priest, but he was also the most attractive man Mike had ever seen in real life.  He was a study in contrasts:  pale face, inky eyes, starched white collar, black suit.   

The dense storm clouds chose that moment to let through a bright sliver of light from the setting sun that beamed through the stained glass windows and landed unerringly on the priest, making him blaze like an angel come to earth. 

Mike shook his head, striving to banish the image – and the inappropriate thoughts which chased through his brain at the sight of the beautiful, chiseled face and wide, expressive mouth.  He realized the man was still waiting for a response from him. 

"Um, it's complicated.  I really need Father Sam." 

"I'm good at complicated.  Try me."  He tilted his head to the side, adopting a pose of patient waiting.  When Mike didn't answer immediately, he added, "I'm Father Harvey, by the way.  We can speak in the booth, out here, or in my office.  Whatever makes you the most comfortable." 

"You're not going to want to hear this.  I doubt that you'd even believe me." 

"Why don't you let me decide?"  An expectant pause.  "Let's start with something easy.  What's your name, son?" 

"Mike Ross." 

Father Harvey's brow furrowed, and if possible, he went paler than before.  "Father Sam warned me about you," he murmured. 

Mike frowned back at him, feeling a tiny seed of hope.  "Warned?  Care to elaborate?  Did he tell you about my parents?  How they died?  And about Grammy?  And Trevor?  And Jenny?"  _Dead … all dead._   It hurt to say the names out loud. 

"He told me everything."  Father Harvey glanced around the church, and then took hold of Mike's arm.  "Come with me, please."  He walked Mike between rows of pews and out of the sanctuary, to a short hallway that led to the office, ushering Mike inside before closing the door behind them. 

Mike had been in here plenty of times before with Father Sam.  His tension relaxed a notch just from proximity to these familiar, safe surroundings.  Father Harvey sat behind the desk, and Mike took a seat in front of it.  There didn't seem any point in stalling, so he blurted, "It's back." 

Father Harvey didn't pretend not to understand.  "It.  The demon that visited you as a child?" 

Mike nodded, and his throat closed up momentarily at the compassion and easy acceptance in the priest's eyes.  "Yes.  Not just visited, though.  Possessed, and nearly killed me.  If Father Sam told you everything, you already know that he risked his collar and his life for me, and cast it out.  I've worn a protective amulet ever since, which Father Sam located and consecrated for me." 

"As I said, I'm familiar with your story." 

The beginning of relief worked its way into Mike's tight chest.  If the priest knew everything, there was no need to recount how the demon had returned again and again over the years, coming back to kill his parents in a car crash meant to look like an accident, or how it had it ruined his chances at school, and orchestrated the murders of his best friend Trevor and his Trevor's girlfriend Jenny at the hands of drug dealers. 

"Okay," Mike finally said, "but why aren't you telling me I'm crazy?  I haven't told many people the story, and most of those I have told urged me to seek professional help – of the psychiatric kind." 

"Because I believe Father Sam, and I believe you."  Father Harvey regarded him, expression grave.  "As it happens, I have experience with this sort of thing.  I used to work for a little known branch of the church, performing exorcisms.  That's where I met Father Sam.  We were a team for a couple of years, and dealt with the most difficult cases, until he was called here, to Brooklyn." 

Mike started to nod again, but realized what Father Harvey had just said.  "Wait.  You're telling me he quit and came here, only to be have one of his parishioners turn up possessed?" 

Father Harvey smiled grimly.  "It's been my observation that demons have a wicked sense of irony." 

Mike let that sink in for a few seconds.  "So, if he'd never transferred here … " 

"I don't know, son.  It might not have made any difference.  Demons tend to be somewhat selective in choosing their human hosts, searching for special skills, or temperaments.  Some prefer children for their innocence, or those with kind hearts, who they take pleasure in corrupting.  Sam mentioned something about your memory." 

"Ah."  Mike had never discussed that with Father Sam, but he must have figured it out, and he supposed it made a certain sort of insane sense.  "Anyway, like I said, he's back.  He's sent one messenger already, urging me to submit.  That seems to be his ultimate goal.  Can you help me?  Or maybe get a message to Father Sam?" 

Father Harvey lowered his gaze, appearing to consider Mike's questions.  His dark eyes flashed up, snaring Mike.  "Father Sam is unreachable at the moment, but I believe I can help you.  First, however, I'll need to see that amulet."  He held out his hand, palm up. 

Mike's own hand leapt to his throat and closed over the amulet.  "I can't do that," he protested.  "I haven't removed this since I was nine years old.  And with the demon so close again … "   

He shuddered as he thought about the possible consequences of losing his protection.  Despite his perfect memory, those two weeks of his childhood remained a hazy blur.  He could recall only unrelenting terror and confusion and flashes of pain, but that was enough to make him wary. 

"Mike."  Father Harvey smiled sadly at him from across the desk.  "You're safe here.  This church is fully warded.  Father Sam saw to that long ago." 

"Wh-why do you need to see it, then?" 

"Since the demon and his messengers continue to successfully seek you out, I suspect something is lacking in the amulet's protective qualities.  I would like to re-consecrate it.  Once I do that, you should be left alone, at least until Haures finds a way through the protections." 

Odd, that Father Harvey knew the demon's name.  Father Sam had never revealed it to him.  The name was irrelevant, though.  It would be nice to not be constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next tragedy to befall someone he cared about.   

Mike hesitated a few more seconds, wracked with indecision, and then, with shaking hands, he reached to the back of his neck and unfastened the clasp on the chain which held the amulet.  He dropped it into the priest's waiting grasp, and they both took a moment to stare down at the tiger's-eye cross wrapped in a finely wrought cage of silver. 

With some surprise, Mike observed a tremble in Father Harvey's hand.  He shifted his gaze to the priest's face, and he gasped, surging to his feet and sending his chair scraping backwards with an ear-splitting shriek across the hardwood floor.   

Father Harvey remained as severely handsome as he'd been moments earlier, but now flames danced in his eyes, and his mouth curved upwards in a cruel smile.  "You disappoint me boy," he intoned, voice deep and distorted.  "I thought you were smarter than that.  Far too easy." 

Mike was disappointed in himself too – and terrified.  He reached behind himself, searching blindly for the doorknob.  When his hand landed on it, he twisted, only to find it locked. 

Father Harvey was on his feet now too.  The amulet was nowhere to be seen, probably gone forever – along with Mike's chances for surviving this night with his soul intact. 

"Don't be frightened, my son."   

Harvey's – Haures'? -- voice reverberated through the small room, and seemed to vibrate inside Mike's entire body at a special frequency for which he'd been created.  He shivered, and plastered his back against the door as Haures stepped around the desk and right up to him.  He grasped Mike's shoulder and smiled at him. 

"You're mine now," he murmured, and then shocked Mike by leaning in to kiss him. 

Rather than eliciting the expected disgust, the kiss inflamed him, and he found himself kissing Haures back with shameful desperation, grabbing his arms and pressing up against him.  Something seemed to flow out of Mike and into the demon's fleshly shell, and then return to him, corrupted and foul, but beguiling nonetheless.  Mike made a desperate sound in the back of his throat and rubbed off frantically on the priest/demon's leg. 

Haures broke the kiss and laughed into Mike's face, breath hot and smelling faintly of sulphur.  "I knew it.  I knew it would be this way with you.  Come here."  He pulled an unresisting Mike to the desk and bent him over it, face down.   

"This is going to hurt," Haures whispered in Mike's ear.  "But you're going to love it, and afterwards you will be bound to me for all time." 

Mike stretched his arms out and held onto the far edge of the desk, eyes shut, trembling all over.  A confused fog of lust filled his brain, leaving him powerless to resist.  Chilly air whispered against naked flesh as his pants slipped to the floor.  Long, fingers, surprisingly cool, stroked between his ass cheeks and probed his entrance.  Mike whimpered, pushing his ass out, offering it to the demon.  "Please," he rasped, not sure what he pleaded for. 

Clothing rustled behind him.  Or maybe, he thought half-hysterically, he was hearing the rustling of leathery wings, or the transformation of the priest's human body into the true form of the demon.  A wholly human-feeling hand held his hip, and Mike relaxed fractionally.  Then a human-feeling cock pressed into him and he raised his face and whined at the burning pain. 

"This is better than before," murmured the demon, stroking Mike's back and tonguing into the shell of his ear.  "A different type of possession."  He pulled halfway out and thrust back in, moaning in a blast of hot, sulfurous air against the back of Mike's neck.   

Haures fucked in and out for what could have been a matter of seconds, or hours, or days, branding him, sending searing heat through him, setting every nerve on fire.  Mike howled, and howled again, and the heavens answered with a blinding flash of lightning that lit up the office like a thousand torches.  Thunder followed seconds later, deep and rumbling, shaking Mike to his foundations as he came and came and came, weeping and clawing at the desk. 

 

****** 

 

When awareness returned, Mike discovered himself on his knees, naked, leaning against the priest/demon with his arms wrapped around Haures' thighs.  Long, cool fingers combed through his hair, soothing his trembles and whimpers. 

"Everything will be so much easier now," promised Haures.  "Do you believe me?" 

Mike bobbed his head rapidly.  "Yes," he whispered.  He let out a choked laugh.  "I mean, how could it be any worse?" 

Haures tugged at his hair, making Mike wince.  "That is the sort of insolence I intend to train out of you."  He returned to petting Mike's head.  "Now tell me:  who do you belong to?" 

Mike shuddered and clutched Haures tighter.  "To you.  I belong to you."  His voice was hoarse from his earlier screaming. 

"That's right.  And for how long?  How long will you belong to me?" 

Mike thought about that for a few seconds before giving the answer Haures seemed to expect.  "Forever.  I'll belong to you forever." 

The tiny, sane part of him that still remained let out a long, drawn out, _nooooooo_ inside his head, but it barely registered.  He held tight to his new master, content enough to simply wait and see what would be required of him next. 

 

 **The End**  

**Author's Note:**

> There is a demon named Haures listed on the Big Ol' list of demons. (Also known as Havres, which is closer to Harvey, but too close to Le Havre, thereby making it feel wrong and a little confusing.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
